


New Truths

by mendacium_dulce (lux_veritatis)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry is two years older than Tom, M/M, Making Out, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 14:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lux_veritatis/pseuds/mendacium_dulce
Summary: For a Gryffindor, manipulation was a double-edged sword. It was against his very nature to wear masks, to feign sentiments and feelings that didn't exist, and so, whenever he attempted to accomplish such a feat, there was the danger of masks coalescing with his real face, of lies morphing into new truths.





	New Truths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cloudyrai_n](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudyrai_n/gifts).



> First of all, I would like to thank my beta and wonderful best friend Winter for doing such an amazing job at helping me out with SPaG. Seriously, you are The Best! <3

Obtaining a time-turner from the Ministry of Magic had been just as easy as expected. Indeed, Harry James Potter was the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, the one who had vanquished the Dark Lord a mere year before; how would they refuse his humble request, when he had quite literally saved them all not only once, but twice?

With the magnificent device finally in his hands, Harry couldn't have felt more determined. Finally, he'd be able to save the people he hadn't been able to save before. He wouldn't take the risk of attempting to save his parents that, according to the Unspeakables he had consulted, might lead to a most dangerous collapse of their current time-line; he wasn't selfish enough for such actions.

But if he could return to the Weasleys the second half of their beloved twins, if he could give little Teddy back the parents who had loved him so much, he would do everything in his might to accomplish that. Saving Sirius, too, shouldn't come with an instability great enough to cause a collapse.

However, a single mistake while operating the device on his part had been enough for him to travel to Tom Riddle's fifth year at Hogwarts rather than his own fifth year, which led to the rather awkward situation of the former Slytherin prefect himself catching him wandering Hogwarts's hallways at night, still blissfully unaware of the mix-up that had occurred.

“Just what are you doing here at this late hour?”

“What are _you_ doing here, Riddle? You're supposed to be dead after I plunged a Basilisk fang into your blasted horcrux diary! Do I have to do it again?”

For a long moment, the sixteen year old Riddle just looked at him, not blinking even once, giving Harry the time to notice that they were about the same height. However, just before he could come to enjoy no longer having Riddle loom over him, Riddle's jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed.

“Clearly, you have no intention of seeing reason,” Riddle said, and his words were laced with the subtlest hint of venom. “Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor for your ventures past curfew; a further ten points will be taken for your improper conduct. In addition to that, I shall personally escort you to your dormitory. If you refuse to comply, then rest assured that I will bring this matter to Headmaster Dippet's attention."

“Fine,” Harry gritted out before swearing under his breath, “Insufferable git!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“...Nothing. Let's go already.”

And such had been Harry's disastrous first meeting with the real teenage Voldemort. It was particularly infuriating how easily young Voldemort had ordered Harry around despite now being the younger of the two.

Their following interactions weren't any less disastrous. Harry had to get back to his own time, for any impactful interaction with Tom Marvolo Riddle could destabilize his own time-line, and the only method of learning enough about his time-turner to not take too many risks when trying to undo his mistake was a nightly infiltration of the library's forbidden section. And wasn't it just _wonderful_ that he was lucky enough to run into Tom Riddle on his way back almost every single time and that the invisibility cloak Harry had been prudent enough to bring with him had no effect on him?

 _“Homenum revelio,”_ Tom Riddle whispered the first time Harry attempted to sneak past him, with his wand pointed at Harry's neck.

“I will have to confiscate your cloak,” Riddle then announced. “As you are aware, invisibility cloaks are forbidden here at Hogwarts. And naturally, I'll have no choice but to deduct 10 points from Gryffindor and give you detention.” His tone was neutral, sympathetic, almost, yet Harry knew him well enough to tell that young Voldemort was practically gloating on the inside.

It was then that Harry concluded that getting on his loathed enemy's good side was the only way to convince him to turn a blind eye to his nightly research.

However, for a Gryffindor, manipulation was a double-edged sword. It was against his very nature to wear masks, to feign sentiments and feelings that didn't exist, and so, whenever he attempted to accomplish such a feat, there was the danger of masks coalescing with his real face, of lies morphing into new truths, and despite having resisted such an outcome so viciously, it didn't take long for Harry to fall into his own trap.

“Time-lines be damned, but I've got to tell you a secret,” Harry began as they were sitting by the shore of the Black Lake, with no one else in sight. “Feel free to laugh at me, but truth is, I'm from the future.”

Tom, on the other hand, simply held his gaze before asking, “Would you care to elaborate on that?”

And then, Harry told him everything, from the murder of his parents to the loss of Tom Riddle's sanity as he created more and more horcruxes to his ultimate defeat at Harry's hands. With every word to leave his mouth, the visible tension in Tom's muscles increased, and when Harry finished at last, there was a long period of silence.

“...I see,” Tom ultimately said, regarding him with something unreadable in his intense gaze. “I... appreciate your warning, Harry.”

“You do? Are you going to change your ways, then?”

“Most definitely. While the Dark Arts still... _tempt_ me, I have no intention of relinquishing my sanity; my _mind_.”

And then, almost hesitantly, he placed his hand atop Harry's, and when he continued, his voice was heavy with emotion.

“Your kindheartedness is most admirable. Anyone else would have left their parents' murderer to their fate or struck them down without hesitation. I'm aware that this most likely won't mean anything to you, but I'm genuinely sorry about the actions of my future self; about _my_ actions.”

“This isn't your fault, Tom,” Harry said softly, turning his hand and giving Tom's hand a reassuring squeeze. “Other than Myrtle's death, which you should definitely atone for, you haven't done anything yet. You've got plenty of time to do better!”

“Thank you, Harry. Truly... I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Well, other than becoming the most feared mass murderer of all time...”

The two of them shared a tired laugh, and it was then that Harry noticed that despite how shaken Tom was, his laugh – deep and melodious and genuine – was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.

His heart skipped a beat when Tom rested his tired head on his shoulder, and for the first time, he fully realized that Tom was indeed the younger of the two of them.

From that day, it was only a matter of time until their relationship progressed to the next stage all but naturally. Secretly a rule breaker himself, Tom didn't mind Harry's company at all on his prefect rounds – in fact, he had specifically invited him to join him for a private moment. Neither of them were much for public displays of affection, and so, the opportunities for them to truly act like a couple were few and far between.

When they had finished patrolling the areas Tom was responsible for, Harry asked shyly, “Can you... can you kiss me now?”

It was a thought that had been lingering on his mind from the moment Tom had asked him to come along under his invisibility cloak.

He didn't have to rise on his tiptoes when Tom closed the distance between them, not when their shoulders were on the same level. It was completely unlike the forbidden dreams that had him waking up with a feeling of guilt and self-loathing, dreams he'd been having ever since he'd been old enough to realize how handsome Tom truly was.

Despite his experience in kissing, his heart stuttered in his chest like it had never stuttered before when Tom's lips brushed against his own – first gently, then more insistently – when Tom's hand found a place in his unruly hair, tugging it in just the right places, and Harry's eyes fluttered closed as a blissful sigh escaped him.

 _'I'm alive, I'm alive,'_ his blood sang and as if Tom had read his thoughts, he further deepened the kiss as though in immediate reaction.

They had stumbled into a tiled room at some point, with Tom maneuvering Harry inside without allowing him to trip or get hurt, and just a moment later, Harry's back was pressed against a piece of furniture that was hard and cold and unyielding.

He couldn't see anything, yet at the same time, with the darkness heightening all of his other senses, Harry found himself welcoming his temporary blindness, and his cheeks flushed when Tom's tongue grazed his upper lip, first tracing its arch, then the soft bow of his bottom lip, and Harry parted his lips far too eagerly.

Moaning shamelessly when Tom's tongue tangled with his own, caressing and prodding and teasing, he was completely overwhelmed by the sensation of thousands of nerve endings stirring to life, making him aware of their existence.

If this was a dance, Tom's lead was impeccable: His steps were confident yet full of grace. It was too easy to let himself fall into Tom's lead, to let him dictate his every movement and reaction. It was too easy to surrender any semblance of control, to let himself be molded like a piece of clay. There was nothing disturbing about the thought.

When they pulled back for air, it was almost simultaneously, as though they shared one body and mind, and Harry was content to just rest his forehead against Tom's, to feel his breath on his parted lips.

Against his lips and in a tongue but the two of them were fluent in Tom murmured, _“Open.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Rain! <3 Thank you very much for being the first person in this fandom to support me as a writer <3 I hope you enjoyed~


End file.
